


Lead Me Through Winter

by pantomimicry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Character Death, Complete, Drama, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantomimicry/pseuds/pantomimicry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He and Draco are not united in their service to the Dark lord. They are pulled in opposite directions and when they have come full circle, passing each other briefly as they begin again, Draco tucks himself into Severus’ arms, demanding that Snape watch over him for a moment as he seeks peace."</p><p>Set during The Half-Blood Prince and told from Severus' point of view, the story begins with Sirius' death and ends with Albus'. It follows Draco through the summer immediately before his sixth year as he takes the Dark Mark, copes with his father's incarceration, the pressure to murder Dumbledore and his own growing desperation and loneliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Former

**Severus** knows when Sirius has died and when Lucius has failed. He feels them both at once, the pain of Voldemort’s pleasure and fury coursing through him, beating at his nerves and drawing him into a deep darkness. He does not look at the mark on his arm as it burns without a flame. On his desk rests a single concise letter from Albus that he has read a dozen times. But, he does not go to the dormitory. He lets Draco sleep knowing he will read about his father’s arrest in the paper tomorrow morning.

 


	2. Summer

 

_I was thinking that we all learn by experience, but some of us have to go to summer school –Peter De Vries_

**He** can taste the boiling flesh on his tongue. It coats his mouth like hot caramel and invades his nose mercilessly. But he does not look away; he can’t, not if he wants to live and certainly not if he has any respect for the young man in front of him.

When Draco takes the Dark Mark Voldemort makes a show of it. Blood trails down a thin forearm in thick rivets. Draco does not scream. Instead he bits down on the back of his hand and pooled at his feet are countless droplets of blood. His eyes are shut; his chin tucked to his chest but through the slits of his mask Severus can see silvery tears, so few that he can see each one fall to mix with the crimson. Draco’s face twist in agony and the dawn light reveals every nuance of his pain. But there is nothing left to take from the Malfoy’s except pride and somehow this boy, this child, manages to hold on to dignity.

Severus remembers the embarrassment more acutely than the pain: the shame of being stripped naked and forced to swear his loyalty at his master’s feet. It’s not the same at all now. He was willing, eager to be worthy of power and influence. Malfoy feared rejection more than death. He can see in Draco’s eyes that he fears this: these moments where his life is held in the hands of a mad man, a mad masterful man. Draco is afraid the world will swallow him, that his mother will become a Death Eater’s toy, and that his father is not safe enough in Azkaban.

The smell is worst than ever in the last few moments of the curse, when the magic is twining with blood and bone to steal a tiny piece of soul for safekeeping. For both of their sakes he wills Draco to have strength. He will have to look them in the eye and he will have to feign bravery.

 

_“There is nothing to be done now.”_

_“Not a thing, dear boy.”Albus watches him intently, his blue eyes flat in exhaustion and resignation._

_“Of course not,” Severus says. “He is just one boy, lost already.” He can’t make the smirk on his face disappear, and he doesn’t disguise the bitterness in his tone._

_“Severus.”_

_This is an old conversation that always ends with his submission._

_“Severus,” Dumbledore says again. His voice is gentle like he is comforting a child. But Severus is only relaying the details of his last meeting; he knows about unhappiness and fairytales. “I will do everything within my power to protect Draco but he will make his own choices.”_

_“His own choices will get him killed.”He wonders if Draco has the intelligence, the instincts to survive._

_Albus touches his shoulder fleetingly because once, long ago, he would have kissed Severus’ forehead and somehow all would have been well._

**Severus** snatches Draco’s hand quickly moving it up and away from his bandaged arm. “Don’t,” he says. “It will be excruciating.”

Wary pale eyes watch him flicking to their clasped hands before gently tugging his own free. They have run out of polite things to say, safe things. Across the table Draco studies him as if he is new and terrifying. He doesn’t speak as Severus works. He suspects that whatever Draco might say will get them both killed. 

“What should you be doing right now, Draco?”

Malfoy jumps, sliding clumsily from his stool and sideways into the table’s edge. Severus does not look up to see him blink back tears as his arm brushes his body. “Nothing.” His voice is barely a whisper.

“I beg your pardon.” Snape speaks into his caldron.

Draco clears his throat and when he speaks his tone is even. “Nothing. I’m not useful enough.”

“You can be useful to me. Stir this.” He points and knows that Draco will obey. He will do anything as long as he feels safe.

He watches briefly before moving away to a side cabinet. He knows Malfoy Manor, all of its secrets and wonders. He knows that until school begins they- he and Draco- are in a fantastic prison. Does Draco know as well?

He returns with a deep purple liquid, thick but fluid. “That’s enough. Let me see your arm.”

Draco moves away, dismay flashing in his eyes. “I can’t,” he says. “It’s-It’s not allowed.” His tone is hard, angry that he should have to refuse the relieve he so desperately wants. “You know I can’t.”

“It is not for the pain, but the infection.” He leans a hip against the table. He will not wait forever for Draco to trust him. In fact he won’t wait at all. “Give me your arm, Draco.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because it is senseless. It was unintended at least.”

“You don’t know what He is thinking.” It is a question; a dangerous one and he could slap the boy for his impertinence.

“I have been in the Dark Lord’s service long enough to make assumptions.” He makes a forward gesture. “Now, please.”

“It fucking hurts.”

“You stupid boy.” He moves quickly sitting Draco in a chair and peeling back the layers of gaze.

The black winding snake is obscured with blood and a thick film of green mucus. Draco’s body jolts and he only just suppresses his gag reflex. He takes Malfoy’s chin and turns his face away.

Severus has seen worse. He has felt worse pain but still he knows Draco must be without comparison. He spreads the liquid over the waxy skin carefully and pushes Draco’s head to the side twice more as he turns to look. There is only so much he can do. He must leave the prickling pangs of discomfort that seems to magnify in a person’s weakest moments.

Draco has been quiet for several minutes. Pressed against his side is the solid weight of his head, his whole face buried in an effete sleep. The anger does come as he expects. Draco is always careless, arrogant. He is so like Lucius. Even this hard won safety does not ease the tension in his body though. The pale skin of his neck is taut, the corners of his mouth turned down. His right hand, his unmarked hand, clenches the billows of Severus’ robe, dragging it heavily across his back.

He cannot be the safety that Draco craves; he cannot even save himself.

 

 


	3. Autumn

_The value of marriage is not that adults produce children but that children produce adults –Peter De Vries_

**Narcissa’s** hand is cold in his but that is part of the pureblood charm: the aloofness, the appearance of icy distain to match their inner frost. The magic wraps around them in heavy bands and he can feel his body being burdened. He has made this promise before. Yet, with Lucius there was no formality, no pleading sky blue eyes intensified by the manic laughter in the background. His first promise to watch over Draco was bound only by sincerity.

 

_“How will you protect him?”_

_Severus is at the door, hand poised to catch the handle. Behind him Albus and the portraits wait. He is tired of planning. He is tired of keeping the fear at bay. “I suppose you have a suggestion,” he says. He turns to look over his shoulder, an almost sneer lifting one side of his face._

_“I have advice,” Albus says._

_He breathes deeply. “I’ve had enough for one day, thank you.”_

_He is near the bottom of the stairs but still he hears the gentle words float down to him as if they were still in the same room. “Teach Draco to protect himself and perhaps you will both see the end of this war.”_

“ **Stay** a moment, Mr. Malfoy.”

The usual chorus of groans and jeers fill the room but the students are already leaving, eager to flee from this harsher more austere Snape. Draco is unwilling to speak first. School has brought back the bravado, and superiority that seems bred into Malfoys. He stands in the back of the large room, small in the surrounding vastness.

“Are you afraid, Mr. Malfoy?”

“No.”

“Then come here. You are going to be marking essays for me.”

“Why?”

He looks up. Draco has made several tentative steps forward. He is on guard, ready to let loose a litany of bitterness. “So that I can keep an eye on you,” he says.

“I’m fine. I don’t need looked after like a child.”

“No? Think of it as an apprenticeship.”

“I don’t want charity.”

“I was being kind then. You may consider it a permanent detention, every day following your afternoon classes. Am I understood?”

Draco’s chin raises, his eyes a dark slate. He looks like a caged animal that knows he can’t escape but wants to try nevertheless. “It’s none of your fucking business what I do.”

“It is now. The parchment tied in black is my rubric. Do not give half credit. Do not take liberties with my answers and write-”

“I know what to do, Snape. Everyone gets an ‘F’ except Granger.” Draco levitated the bag towards him, to the farthest desk from Snape.

Severus follows him looming over the desk. He doesn’t have time to take pity on Malfoy or allow him to sulk. He grips a slim shoulder hard enough to leave bruises. “I am still your teacher, Draco. And, I am trying to help you.”

“You’re just as tainted as I am. If I take help from you do you think I’ll ever-?”

He shoves Draco back into his seat because even if he were as tall as his father Severus would still have two inches on him. “Do you think you have a chance, Draco? Have you any idea what this mark means?” Severus’ arm is pale and ugly between them but the serpent is just as vivid as the day it was seared into his flesh. “Whatever task you have been given, I can assure you that the Dark Lord means you to fail.”

“He trusts me,” Draco says. His voice is a quiet murmur that can’t pull together enough conviction to convince either of them. “Let go.” He shakes Sanpe’s hand away but he has nowhere to go. His own blemished arm is between them, still held before Draco’s eyes to prove a point. “None of this has anything to do with you,” he says.

“It has to do with all of us. Your success or failure means everything.”

“I’m saving myself.”

“Then it is fortunate that the Dark Lord has the foresight to save us all.” The words do not stick in his throat as he speaks to Draco, as he lies to him. Severus looks down at him. He is all sharp angles and volatility. He is lost, Severus thinks, and because he is stranded in the woods with nothing but a lone match he is standing in a circle of fire.

“Shut-up. Shut-up,” he says quietly. It would have been a wail or strangled cry but Draco halls him forward by the handful. He uses Snape as a wall and beats his head against his stomach.

Severus doesn’t stop him. Draco’s fit of realization is only a soft thumping on his body. It is a forced closeness that harrows him. If Draco had not known before, perhaps he does now; he is alone and ruined either way.

Draco is unprepared for the world. If Lucius had any sense he would have handed the boy to Dumbledore years ago. He is spoiled and green, completely without the skills to cope. Against Severus, Draco’s body trembles and the hands clenched into his sides are unsteady.

Draco’s problems wrap around the world a million times over and now he is left to stand on his own. Snape reaches out moving his fingertips along the bones of Draco’s spine. The Malfoy’s are a cage around him. He does not understand that they are not simply members of a school gang from which they can be ejected easily. They are bound together inescapably and they will be lucky if death grants them release.

He traces the same idle patterns until he feels Draco’s grip slacken, until he feels spidery limbs shift into something reminiscent of a hug.  Draco doesn’t deserve his comfort, and he has no right to steal it away as if Severus isn’t losing enough already. He has more pressing concerns than an ungracious child. But Draco has soft grey eyes that were made to smile and wit that isn’t clever enough but could flourish if he lives past eighteen.

“Get out, Draco,” he says. His dismissive tone is belayed when he touches the back of Malfoy’s head gently, for an instant. As the door clicks open he speaks again, “Granger gets an F too.”


	4. Winter

_There are times when parenthood seems nothing but feeding the mouth that bites you – Peter De Vries_

**Draco’s** trust is hard won and full of brevity. His only option is to tempt him with safety, with kindness that is not returned. Severus is expected to suffer his sullenness but offer comfort without reserve. Draco’s body sometimes presses against him but it is not an embrace. He and Draco are not united in their service to the Dark lord. They are pulled in opposite direction and when they have come full circle, passing each other briefly as they begin again, Draco tucks himself into Severus’ arms, demanding that Snape watch over him for a moment as he seeks peace.

 

_“How are you today, my boy?”_

_Severus closes his eyes, frowning. In this office, round and full of wonderful things, he is still a child to Albus. He doesn’t answer. His eyes flick up to meet twinkling ones, always amused with Severus although he could never say why._

_“How is Draco?”_

_“Well enough.” He says carefully._

_Albus’ gaze pins him, absorbing the dishonesty like it was a lemon drop. “You still don’t trust me to keep your secrets Severus?”_

_“Draco is not a secret. He is a nuisance. He wastes my time with his petulance and pathetic attempts to murder you.”_

_“Would you prefer him to be apt at killing?”_

_He pushes a lock of hair from his face; his nostrils flare in annoyance._

_“Does he have nightmares,” Dumbledore asks. He looks at Severus tenderly, gently. “Tell me truthfully, Severus.”_

_“Some.” Of the daily lies he tells he thinks this should be the easiest and most readily available but Albus knows him too well. The simple, frank, word shames him. “He dreams of death and happy endings.” Snape’s voice seems distant and thin but this at least is the truth. When Draco feels protected he sleeps well._

_The Headmaster nods. He stares at the rows of books covering the walls, framing the beautiful objects. “I don’t know what he needs from you, my boy. Or what you are willing to give?”_

_Severus smiles wryly, his black eyes deeper and more forbidding than ever. “He needs me to kill you.”_

“ **You** cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled-”

He watches the Malfoy’s face shift into outrage but it is not quick enough to hide the subterfuge. His pale cheeks flush a deep pink and in this moment Draco must hate him.

When Severus takes a step forward slipping into Draco’s space and mind he finds walls. They are crumbling, yes, but he does not push. Draco flinches away from the mention of Bellatrix; he can imagine her ripping her nephew’s mind apart. He feels the frayed edges from too much strain and too little experience. He could have taught Draco without the brutality but Bella has a unique view of entertainment and she must enjoy having a pet.

Draco’s body shakes violently before Severus. He is furious and afraid. He can’t keep Severus out of his mind; he can rearrange and redirect but that isn’t enough.

“You’d better stop telling me to come to your office then!” Draco’s voice bounces around the room like so many marbles in an empty vase. He could wrap his hands around Malfoy’s neck for all the sense he has.

Severus moves to Draco unthinkingly slamming his thighs back into the desk and pressing close to him so that he can speak directly into Malfoy’s ear. He can’t give safety but he offers to help. He tells Draco for the first time about a promise sealed with his life. _I made the Unbreakable Vow-_ Snape’s arms and body confine him, forcing Draco to be silent, if only for a moment.

Malfoy yells _looks like you’ll have to break_ as Severus whispers _what is you plan_ but he does not pull away. He allows Snape to stand against him. This intimate touch and his adamant verbal refusals are not the same at all. Snape sees immediately that Draco doesn’t have a plan and if he ever had it would have been lost the instant Severus touched him, the instant he trapped Draco.

There is no kind way to tell Malfoy that he is idiotic to trust Crabbe and Goyle. Draco shifts against his thighs. In their abandon room he is nearly screaming.

Snape shouts back and finds his control again just as quickly. He wills kindness into his voice, and exaggerated patience. Neither of which he feels as Draco presses his face into his shoulder. He goes two sentences without being interrupted before Draco lifts his head up, the blonde strands whipping across Severus’ face sharply. “They’re not the only ones, I’ve got other people on my side, better people.”

“Then why not...” He is stopped more promptly this time and Draco shocks him; in another time he would admit to being wounded. He cranes his neck down to watch Draco, to judge for himself how sincere he is being even now tangled against him. He sees a cool, contrived blankness that would make Bellatrix proud and disgusts him.

Draco circles his hips, moves closer into their odd embrace as if he hasn’t said exactly the wrong thing.

He’s run out of ways to reason with Malfoy and nothing is more exhausting than the boy’s unpredictability. His capacity for cognitive dissonance is boundless. But then again, Draco isn’t really listening. He ignores the cold asperity when he speaks. He is quiet and molded to Snape’s body. “…I quite understand that your father’s capture and imprisonment has upset you, but-”

He makes the mistake of extending compassion and Draco rips away from him as suddenly as he has come.

 


	5. Spring

_When I can no longer bear to think of the victims of broken homes, I begin to think of the victims of intact ones – Peter De Vries_

“… **There** may be a certain amount of scaring, but if you take dittany immediately…”

He knows at once that Draco is not dead; the blood covering his body flows in tiny rivers to the floor and his eyes blink erratically.  It would be too easy; too clean for Draco to be killed and nothing is ever so simple. In Potter’s mind he sees his book and his spell, carelessly written across the top of the page: _Sectumsempra- for enemies._ Yet, for many months Draco has succeeded in being no one’s enemy but his own.

 

_Dumbledore looks too luminous for Snape’s dark office, bringing sunshine to a room with no windows. “How can I help you, Headmaster?”_

_Albus smiles at him and serves them both from a dusty and cracked tea service that has been well hidden. “Draco is recovering well.”_

_“Yes, and he is running out of time to please the Dark Lord. Poor dueling skills will not be a sufficient excuse when he fails in his task.”_

_“Does he have a chance to survive?” Albus ask. His voice lifts with genuine curiosity as if he doesn’t already know the answer. Dumbledore waits quietly, tilting his head a fraction to watch Severus over the frames of his spectacles.”Are you doing me a great favor, Severus, or are you saving Draco’s life?”_

_“Does it matter?” Severus asks._

_“Yes,” Albus says, “the difference matters very much.”_

_“’I’m saving myself.’” Draco’s words are slick in his mouth, hollow because he simply can’t believe them. He smiles oddly; his face is not quite practiced enough at it._

_“What is it, my boy?” Dumbledore reaches out, lays his hand atop Snape’s free hand on the desk._

_“Something Draco said: that he was saving himself.”_

_“How did you reply?”_

_He hesitates, meeting Albus’ eyes. “I lied.”_

_Dumbledore nods once. “It’s easier to protect the ones to whom we have grown attached,” he says._

_“I see,” Snape says. He pushes away the cold tea and stands beside the door losing an imaginary battle in his mind. “He does not need to be coddled. Look where it has gotten him.”_

_“Oh, Severus,” Albus sighs. He doesn’t turn to look at Snape but speaks to the empty chair left in front of him. “There is no harm in caring for the boy.”_

**Draco** is a huddled mass in the corner of his couch, the room’s one tall window slanting pale light across his cheeks as he sleeps. He looks frail in his hospital pajamas, feet bare and head pillowed on his arms, like a little boy, but the dark circles under his eyes and tight lines around his mouth say otherwise.

Snape touches the wisps of hair that have fallen in his face, and Draco jolts, whipping away and pressing back into the couch. Before his eyes have even opened his wand is out, waving wildly in front of his body. Severus catches Malfoy’s wrists, holding them in one hand and taking the wand with the other. “Draco,” he growls.

There is a cold fear in his eyes that doesn’t dissipate when he sees it is only Snape pinning his hands. “Sorry,” he says. He pulls away from Snape wrapping his arms around his raised knees. “I thought you were-”

“You did not think at all. I could have killed you before your wand was ever drawn.”

“You wouldn’t,” he says softly, “you can’t.”

He sneers. “Clearly my vow was wasted when you did even take the simple precaution of warding the door.”

When Malfoy doesn’t look up, Snape pulls one arm away to meet his grey eyes. “You should be in the hospital wing,” he says. His tone is softer but no less harsh. It seems impossible that he should have to pull Draco back into safety. This stubborn fearsome boy has more reason to split his soul then Severus will ever have to keep his intact.

“Don’t act as if you’re my father.” He raises his head, his face a gaunt mirror of Lucius twenty years ago. “You don’t care. My mother begged for my life and you felt guilty. You pity us-”

He slaps Draco with enough force to throw him back against the couch. Immediately a bruise begins to form, Snape’s hand imprinted in bright pink on the pale skin. The crack of skin on skin is deafening and his palm stings in uniform pulses. “Do not,” Severus says, his voice low and dangerous, “ever tell me I do not care for you. I have tied my life to yours. And it was not out of pity.” He spits the word out like it is poison, the venom melting into his mouth to create a gravelly tone.

“Then why!” Draco says. Malfoy moves, unfolding his body and touching his index finger to his swelling bottom lip.

He stands unsteadily and Severus resents this bathetic display. Malfoy’s cough starts gently and becomes rough and painful as newly healed lungs struggle for air.

Snape catches him when he leans hard on the couch. He settles an arm around Malfoy’s waist guiding him down the hall to a large unadorned bedroom. “Lie down, Draco, before you faint,” he says. He is tired too.  

Draco sits on the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the cottony black sheets. Fatigue bleeds into each of his movements; it taints his anger and dulls it to an exhausted stream of bitterness.

Severus reaches out tracing the spidery white scar that begins at Draco’s collarbone and disappears beneath his shirt.

“Fuck off.” He twists away from Snape sliding back out of reach.

Mutely Snape summons a vial and a glass of water letting both hover by Draco’s hand. If Malfoy refuses his help it is enough that he tries. He sits heavily in a large chair across from the bed.

Teaching has taught him that children want nothing more than attention and denied it they will always relent. Severus watches Draco drink the potion, gagging at the taste, over the top of his book. “Do you need a bucket?” He barely glances up.

For several beats there is no sound except Draco’s ragged breathing and the crisp flick of pages being turned. But Malfoy is abruptly in front of him, yanking his book down and standing so close that his crossed knees touch Draco’s thighs. “What is it Draco?” He flips the book over on his lap, touching Malfoy’s elbow lightly. “Do you know what you want or is it buried-”

Draco falls against him and kisses the corner of Severus’ mouth with his eyes closed. They are a tangle of long limbs pressed into too small a space. Snape huffs allowing Draco to kiss him messily before he pulls his head into a different angle. He lets Draco explore his mouth slowly. Slim hands fist in Snape’s robes tugging apart the fabric until finally he reaches skin and can trace the smooth outline of Severus’ ribs.  Against him Draco’s body is taut, arching into him mindlessly, grinding his erection into Snape’s stomach.

He pulls back from Malfoy staring at his red lips and wide eyes. He doesn’t have to ask Draco what he’s doing. The set of his mouth says everything, his raised eyebrow and flushed cheeks say more than any question he could ask. Instead he lifts a hand and touches Draco’s wrist, moving up so his fingers meet the stark outline of the dark mark.

“Don’t ruin it,” Draco says. He kisses Snape again, running his tongue across his thin lips and his hands twist into Severus’ lank hair only to let the strands fall between his fingers in a continuous motion.  “I’m of age,” he adds.

“That is not the point.” He sneers down at the boy in his lap, gripping his arm tightly. Draco looks at him like he can put the world back together again, like this small pleasure will cost them nothing more than their sanity. “For the love of Merlin,” he says, reaching between them to stroke Malfoy’s erection through the flimsy material of his pajamas.

His head falls forward onto Snape’s shoulder and he spreads his legs into the warmth of Severus’ hand. Draco’s lips move along his jaw over the barest layer of stubble and down to the column of his neck. His arousal washes over Snape, drawing him over the edge of propriety and into a hazy attraction that truly is hard won. But what he wants from Draco isn’t a quick fuck. He wants his youth and promise, his infinite possibilities for the future because Draco will survive.

A cold hand finds his free one, mapping the curves of his fingers, his wrist and finally settling over his growing erection. He pulls it away to the chair’s arm and flattens his own hand on top. Severus’ fingers fill the empty spaces, not quite holding Draco’s hand.

“Why-”

“No,” he says sternly. He presses his hand past the waistband of the pajamas, giving Draco’s cock several firm strokes. He slides his thumb across the head turning his wrist at the last moment to drag along the shaft down to his balls.

Malfoy’s thrusts lose their rhythm and he drives hard into Snape’s stomach forcing his hand into an even tighter fist around his cock.  He comes with a sharp gasp in Severus’ ear, his whole body stiffening, and his hand clenching on Snape’s waist. He pumps lazily until Draco is completely flaccid and he feels the sticky wetness begin to cool.

Malfoy is warm in his lap. He sighs against Snape’s neck drawing circles with his tongue on his collarbone.

Draco caresses Severus’ face, feeling his prominent nose and hollow cheekbones, rubbing his fingers across too thin lips. Malfoy follows his hairline down to his jaw and over his Adam’s apple, gently. Snape snorts pressing his lips hastily to the top of Draco’s head.

 


	6. Latter

**Albus** pleads with him; he looks at him as if they are the only ones in the tower. Behind him Draco presses close and in the darkness no one sees him clutch Snape’s robes like a frightened child. But, that is exactly what he is, scared and out of his league. He can feel his unsteady grip pulling at him for protection, for a rescue.

Avada Kedavra: with two words he rescues Malfoy and Albus. He fractures his soul and the weight of it nearly crushes him. It will be a very long time before he can grieve for either.

He pulls Draco with him through the castle and the grounds, holding the boy’s hand as one last assurance that he will protect him. When Potter’s curse soars past their heads he shoves Draco forward telling him to run.

He is calm as he deflects Potter’s curses, but Potter’s face is horribly pained and it is a wonder he can lift his wand through the force of his emotions. He sees profound hatred, reflected on his own features when Potter calls him a coward. He can’t possibly know what Severus is doing and certainly he doesn’t know for whom.

His feet slide as he runs across the grass, slick with pre-dawn dew. At the gate Draco is panting, searching blindly in the moonlight for him. Malfoy’s face conceals nothing as he sprints towards the boundary. His promise is complete but he is still inextricably link to this blond young man who cannot commit murder but feels no compunction about allowing Severus to do so for him.

He folds Draco against him turning sharply on his heel and Disapparating with a loud crack.

 


End file.
